“Go where?” Gorawen had entered the hall, and came to join her lord and their daughter, her eyes flicking to the stained sheet.
“We must leave today for Everleigh,” Averil told her mother. “It is time for the harvest, and Rhys should be there.”
“Then I shall come with you,” Gorawen answered her daughter. She turned to Merin Pendragon. “It is but a few days to Lamastide, my lord. The weather is fine. You must send men to escort our daughter and her husband home. I know you can spare these men a short time. ’Twill be long enough for me to tell Averil what she must know to keep her lord content as I have kept you content all these years, my lord.”
He chuckled. “You have indeed kept me well satisfied, Gorawen. I should not deny Rhys FitzHugh the benefits of the knowledge you will impart to our daughter. Aye, you may go. If we leave today we will not arrive at Everleigh until sometime tomorrow. We will remain three full days with our child. Then we must return.”
“It is barely time, but ’twill be time enough, for Rhys FitzHugh will spend his days in Everleigh’s fields bringing in the harvest,” Gorawen said. “I shall spend those days with Averil, teaching her, and explaining to her things only a woman knows.”
“Come and eat, both of you,” he said. “When you have finished go tell my lady wife of your plans; Argel will want to know, and she will miss you. My prickly Ysbail is no good company for her.” He arose from the high board, for he had now finished his meal, and left the hall, the bloodied sheet in his grasp.
Mother and daughter now sat as the servants supplied them with their trenchers filled with oat stirabout. There was also a plate of hard-boiled eggs on the table, fresh bread, butter and cheese. Watered wine was poured into their pewter goblets. The two ate quietly, but when they had finished Gorawen put a hand on her daughter’s hand.
“Was it all right?” she asked anxiously.
“It was wonderful,” Averil replied, blushing. “But I am sore this morning.”
“I have something for the soreness,” Gorawen said.
“I am glad you are coming with me,” Averil admitted.
“Your new home will seem less strange if I am with you at first,” Gorawen answered. “Besides, this servant who has watched over the child-heiress must be dealt with, and you will need my help in that, for you are young and inexperienced.”
“I would not make her my enemy,” Averil said.
“Nay, you should not, but she must also understand that while her charge is the lady of Everleigh Manor, she must be guided by an equal, and not a servant. Is the woman serf, or freed?” Gorawen inquired.
“I know not, Mother,” was the reply.
“It will make a difference,” Gorawen said.
Rhys FitzHugh now entered the hall. He greeted Gorawen, and kissed his wife atop her golden head before sitting down at the high board. His food was immediately brought to him, and he began to eat. Averil filled his goblet herself, and cut him pieces of cheese, and peeled an egg for her husband. “I have spoken to your father, wife. We will leave for Everleigh as soon as I have eaten.” He turned to Gorawen. “I understand that you will be with us, lady.”
“I would see my daughter, my only child, well settled, my lord,” Gorawen told him. “The lord and his son will also accompany us.” She arose from the table. “I must go speak with Argel. She has spoken to me, daughter, of sending Dilys with you. She said you should not go from your father’s house without your own servant.”
“I must thank her. Oh, I do like Dilys!” Averil said enthusiastically.
“You will thank her before you leave,” Gorawen said, and then turning she glided from the hall.
“I must send a messenger ahead to my sister so she knows we are returning, and so Rhawn may prepare for guests,” Rhys told Averil.
“Is Rhawn a serf? Or is she a freedwoman?” Averil asked him. “She seems so assured of herself.”
He laughed. “She is a serf, but her confidence comes from the fact that my sire trusted her completely. He always said she was a woman of good sense who was completely obedient, did well what was expected of her, and more.”
“What exactly are her duties, my lord?” Averil probed gently.
“Why, she runs the household and takes care of my sister,” he replied.
“Then, what am I to do?” Averil said. “We have spoken on this before but you have never given me an answer. I am not an ornament whose sole existence is for your pleasure, Rhys. My life must have a purpose.”
“What has your purpose been in your father’s house?” he asked her. “The lady Argel manages here.”
“My function was to learn the duties of a wife, Rhys FitzHugh, so that I might put what I have learned into effect one day. You have said your cottage is in disrepair so until it is rebuilt next year we cannot live there. And we should not live there until Mary has a husband of her own, which will be several years hence. I cannot sit in the hall at Everleigh weaving on tapestries while Rhawn manages the house. I will expect her help in learning how Everleigh’s household is managed, but then it is I who should control it until Mary is old enough to take on the full responsibilities herself. Rhawn’s function should be to care for your sister when I am not teaching her myself.”
“She loves the child,” he said slowly.
“That is to the good, then,” Averil replied. “But I must be mistress of Everleigh after Mary. Would you have me answer to a serf, husband?”
“I did not think about this problem,” he answered her.
“Nay, you did not. Your father, God assoil his good soul, told you to steal an heiress so you might have your own place in life. Unfortunately you stole the wrong lass. But I am your wife, Rhys FitzHugh. I am the daughter of a worthy man, a man who can trace his line of descent to a great king. My mother’s family are noble, and respected. You cannot possibly expect me to give way to a serf, no matter how loyal she has been. I am not asking you to send her from the house. Just put her in her place so that I may take mine,” Averil concluded. “If you cannot do that I must remain in my father’s house, for I will not be shamed.”
He shook his head. “Rhawn is a good woman,” he said. “Mary would be lost without her, and I will not send her away.”
Averil was beginning to be very annoyed. Why could he not understand that she wasn’t asking him to send the serf back to the fields, she was just asking him to make certain the woman understood that Averil would manage the house once they arrived. “I repeat,” she said in a tight voice. “I do not ask you to send Rhawn away.”
“Let us wait until we get to Everleigh to settle this matter, wife,” he told her, and before she might continue to argue her mother reentered the hall.
“Come, child,” Gorawen said. “It is almost time for you to depart. You must say good-bye to your sisters, to the lady Argel and to Ysbail.”
Averil arose without another word to him, and moved quickly to her mother’s side, nodding. The two women departed the hall, leaving Rhys FitzHugh to contemplate his wife’s words. There was much to what Averil had said, but FitzHughs valued loyalty, and Rhawn was loyal to her masters. Averil Pendragon was another matter entirely. He finished the remainder of his meal.
Averil and her mother went to the solar of the keep where the others were awaiting them. She knelt before her father’s wife to receive her blessing, putting her hands into Argel’s hands in a gesture of respect.
“God bless you, Averil, and may our dear Lord Jesu and his Holy Mother Mary keep you safe always. You depart your da’s house with my love and my blessings on you, your husband, and the children you will bear him.”
“Thank you, my Lady Mother,” Averil said softly, using the name for Argel that those children not hers used. “I will miss you and our family.”
“I am giving you Dilys to serve you, Averil,” Argel told her. “You are the daughter of a great house, and should now have your own servant.”
“Thank you.”
“And I shall expect to know your children, m
y dear, for you shall always be welcome in the home of your youth,” Argel continued. “Now get up and bid the others your farewells.” She leaned forward and kissed Averil on both cheeks.
Averil stood and went to Ysbail, her father’s second concubine. “Farewell, lady. May God guard you always.”
“It could be worse,” Ysbail said bluntly. Then she said, “Junia will miss you. I hope you will ask her to Everleigh.”
“I will, lady,” Averil answered, ignoring Ysbail’s first words. “Will you give me your blessing too?” She bowed her head.
Ysbail was surprised, but recovering she said, “Indeed, my blessings on you and yours, Averil Pendragon.” Then she, too, kissed the girl on both cheeks.
Averil now went to her two younger sisters. “I would remain longer, but Rhys must be back for the harvest.”
“The sheet is flying from the tower window,” Maia said excitedly. “Was it too awful? Or was it wonderful?” Her eyes were bright with her excitement, and her curiosity.
“Both,” Averil said. “It does hurt, but he says only the first time, as did my mother.”
“Did you do it more than once?” Maia continued.
Averil shook her head, laughing at her sister. “Nay, Maia Pendragon, I will not discuss such matters with a virgin. Besides, Junia is too young for such speech.”
“No, I’m not!” Junia protested.
“Will you be happy with him?” Maia asked softly.
“I think so,” Averil said.
“What if you are not?” Junia inquired.
“I must try to be, little one. It is my duty, and I am the Dragon Lord’s eldest daughter. I must not shame our family,” Averil responded. “This is how it is for us. We are wedded, bedded, and then we must make the best of it.”
“You were meant for a great lord,” Junia said, tears in her eyes.
“Aye, or so I thought,” Averil agreed. “But it was not to be, Junia. Rhys FitzHugh would appear to be a good man. I will do my best to be a good wife to him as you must be to the man chosen for you one day.”
“I will choose my own husband,” Junia said.
“I also,” Maia agreed.
“I hear the horses below,” Gorawen said. “We must go, daughter.”
“Travel safely,” Argel said to Gorawen. She lowered her voice, “And for mercy’s sake, do not linger long!”
Hearing her Averil laughed knowingly. She kissed her two sisters on their cheeks, hugging them harder than she ever had, then turned quickly away lest they see her tears. But both Maia and Junia were already beginning to weep noisily at the impending separation from their elder sister. With their sobs ringing in her ears Averil Pendragon departed the house of her father for Everleigh.
Chapter 6
Mary FitzHugh eagerly ran forward to meet her brother and his party. Rhawn, lingering behind, glared with ill-concealed anger at the sight of the beautiful golden haired girl riding by Rhys FitzHugh’s side. So, he had married the Welsh wench. Well, the little savage would not lord it over her child. She would see to that. The Welsh wench would be quickly taught her place. Then Rhawn’s eye touched on a second woman, very much like the first. Her mother? Well, and Rhawn laughed to herself, not even two Welsh wenches were her match. She would protect her precious little mistress from these two interlopers.
“Brother!” Mary threw herself at Rhys as he dismounted.
He lifted her up, swinging her high. “Mistress Mary!” he said, laughing, his eyes filled with love for his young sister as he held her in his arms.
Mary kissed him, smiling happily. “Have you brought home a wife, brother?” Her blue eyes went to Averil.
“I have, little one,” he admitted, and slipping from her horse Averil came forward to greet her sister-in-law.
“I am grateful for your hospitality, my lady Mary,” she said, and Averil curtsied.
“Oh!” Mary exclaimed. “You must not call me my lady, Averil. We are sisters now. I am just plain Mary to you as I am to my brother.” Her eyes moved past the older girl to where Gorawen stood. “And this lady is surely your mother,” Mary said. “She is every bit as beautiful as you are.”
“And as you will be when you are grown, my child,” Gorawen replied with a smile as she greeted the little girl.
“Put me down, Rhys,” Mary commanded her brother. “I would greet our guests properly.” And when he had complied Mary welcomed the Dragon Lord back to Everleigh, but she was looking past him even as she spoke.
Merin Pendragon drew his son forward. “This is my heir, Brynn Pendragon, Mary FitzHugh. He desired to escort his sister that he might meet you.”
Brynn, a handsome lad, bowed to the little girl who curtsied in return.
“You look like your sire,” Mary observed. She was more than aware why the boy was here. She was being looked over as a possible wife in several years’ time.
“So it is said,” Brynn answered her. His father had told him this girl might be his wife one day. She was pretty enough, and seemed pleasant.
“Let us go into the house,” Mary said, leading her guests inside to the hall where she invited them to sit before the fire while her servants hurried forth with wine to slake their thirst. Rhawn saw to the comfort of the men-at-arms, but then hurried quickly back into the hall to observe what was going on. She would not allow this Welsh wench to lord it over Everleigh folk, and push her mistress aside. No. That was not going to happen while there was breath in her body.
“Brother, you must have the master’s chamber now,” she heard Mary saying to Rhys. The girl turned to Averil. “It is behind the hall, and quite large and comfortable.”
“But then where do you sleep?” Averil inquired. “You are Everleigh’s mistress, Mary. Should not that chamber be yours?”
“It is a room for a married pair, Averil,” the girl replied. “I sleep in the solar with Rhawn. When I wed one day I shall sleep there with my husband, but for now you must have it. I see you brought your servant. She will have a place in the solar with us.”
“I am grateful for Dilys,” Averil said politely. She didn’t like the looks that the serf woman, Rhawn, was casting at her. This was not going to be easy, and especially as Rhys seemed torn between her and the crone.
The supper was served. They had missed dinner, not arriving until late afternoon. There were game pies, pickled eel, half a ham, cheese, bread, and butter. And when it had been eaten a bowl of apples stewed in honey was brought forward to be served with sugar wafers and spiced wine.
“The meal was well prepared, and served. The food fresh,” Gorawen noted quietly to her daughter. “This Rhawn oversees well, but I like not how she looks at you.”
“I think she believes I mean to be the lady of the manor, Mother, and she is fiercely jealous of her little mistress’s position. I know not what to do, for I cannot remain idle here. I have spoken to Rhys about it, but while he knows I am right, he wavers, for he says the FitzHughs prize loyalty, and Rhawn is loyal.”
“The creature is a serf!” Gorawen said, outraged. “You are his wife. I will not have you insulted in this way. I shall speak to your father.”
“Wait, I beg you,” Averil replied. “I think I might possibly have the answer to this problem, but first I will put into effect some of the skills you taught me last night as we traveled. While I certainly have no basis for comparison, I believe my husband a lusty man. If I please him mightily he may accede to my suggestions.”
“Wait another day to put your requests before him,” Gorawen said. “Tomorrow while he is in the fields overseeing the harvest, I shall teach you certain things that will bind him to your side forever, my daughter.” And Gorawen smiled knowingly.
“But may I practice my new skills on him this night, Mother? We have but coupled once, and having been on the road last night had no opportunity to couple again. He will be eager, I suspect,” Averil concluded.
Gorawen nodded. “Of course you must offer him pleasure, daughter,” she agreed.
She w
ondered what plan Averil was forming in order to get her way in this matter. Her child was a clever puss but she would need to be to dislodge this overproud serf.
When the evening drew to a close Mary invited Gorawen to share her bed in the solar where Rhawn, and Averil’s servant, Dilys, would also sleep. Merin Pendragon and his son would each have a bed space in the hall. These were small alcoves in the stone walls of the house where bedding could be placed, making a comfortable sleeping spot for guests. Averil noted that Rhawn, in Mary’s company, made certain that the fire was banked, the lamps and candles snuffed out, the doors locked and barred.
Taking his wife’s hand Rhys led her into the master’s chamber, which was located at the end of the hall behind the fireplace. He locked the door behind them, setting the bar in place afterwards. “This will be our wee hidey-hole,” he said. “We will have a bit of privacy here.” And having spoken he placed another log in the room’s hearth, which shared a chimney with the hall.
Averil looked about. There were two narrow windows in the wall to the right of the large bed. There was a large wooden cupboard on another wall, a long square chest at the foot of the bed, a small settle with a cushion by the fireplace, and a single table by the bedside with a candlestick. There was no light in the room but for the fire. The candle by their bed was not lit. The floors were stone, but were covered with several woven mats. There were wooden shutters on the windows, but the chamber was high enough up that no one might peer into the room. But she would make window coverings for the winter, Averil decided. They would need them for warmth, for even narrow windows would let in the icy air. The bed curtains also needed replacement.
“I have never slept here,” Rhys said quietly. “This was my sire’s room.”
“Well, until your sister is wedded you serve her as the master of the house,” Averil said in practical tones. “But the whole place needs refurbishing, my lord husband. It is musty, and from the look of it the mattress hasn’t been replaced in your father’s lifetime. Still, it will serve us until we may have a new one made.” She opened the cupboard doors. It was empty. “I shall store my garments here, and you will have the trunk at the bed’s foot. Agreed?” She drew her tunic off, and folding it neatly, laid it on a shelf.
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